


This love isn't good (unless it's me and you)

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Series: We'll take it slow [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AKA Coulson and Skye finally get their shit together, F/M, Finally, Resolved Romantic Tension, SkoulsonFest2k15 Redux, Two idiots fall in love, love in the time of hydra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You really love me,” Skye said quietly. “Still.”<br/>Coulson frowned. “Still? Skye, it’s been--”<br/>“A long time. For you.” </p><p>SkoulsonFest2k15 Redux Day 7: Love in the Time of Hydra</p>
            </blockquote>





	This love isn't good (unless it's me and you)

**Author's Note:**

> It's the end! Of this and SkoulsonFest. :(  
> I'd wish every week were Skoulson week, but then I'd never sleep. So yeah. Enjoy!

It surprises her, a little bit. How she figures it out.

She’d been at the Nest for three days (Coulson had roundly rejected naming the base “the Cocoon.” She couldn’t really blame him,) when Lincoln arrived to set up the medical wing. He brought some basic equipment, a volunteer spirit and a six pack of some trendy beer Skye had requested, since she was basically stuck there while maintenance was being performed.

After a long day of move-in for him, programming and planning for her, they sat on the roof of the base, six pack between them. Lincoln was telling her some story about his travels after Afterlife had gone belly up. Backpacking through California, hitching rides on freight trains through the midwest...

 _“And then you passed through the seven levels of the Candy Cane Forest_ ,” Skye said dramatically, and Lincoln rolled his eyes. She was two beers in on an empty stomach, cracking open her third, when she realized what a nice night it was.

She was buzzy, but not drunk, and the night air was warm with a perfect breeze. Since they were the only building for miles around (and didn’t have their electricity fully done, enter Lincoln,) the stars were shining brightly.

“With all that exciting travel under your belt, how are we ever going to keep you here?” Skye joked, taking a sip of her beer. Lincoln looked away. “Lincoln?”

“I just… I want to help you Skye, and I will. But once you guys are on your feet--” He sighed.

“You’re leaving.” _Isn’t that just typical_. The nice breeze was now too windy, the stars annoying in their brightness.

Lincoln turned to look at her, looking guilty. But also excited. “Skye, I spent the last few years going between my hometown and Afterlife, that’s it. And only whenever Gordon could take me. I feel like I can’t stay in one place anymore, I need to get out and--it’s a cliche, I know--see the world.” He sipped his own drink, looking thoughtful. “I feel like I could do some good out there, as a doctor. _Just_ a doctor, for now.”

 _Not an Inhuman doctor_. It made sense, she begrudgingly acknowledged. He’d dedicated so much time to the people of Afterlife, became isolated, then got burned. She could see him in some tiny village somewhere, using his skills and knowledge to cure the sick, sans powers.

“ _Doctors without borders_ ,” she muttered wryly. It was probably for the best, she thought, that history wasn’t repeating itself in this scenario.

“Are you going to be okay, Skye?” Lincoln looked concerned, and that’s when it hit her.

She was going to be okay.

Don’t get her wrong, it would suck to lose Lincoln, especially since he was the only person like her that she knew and trusted and was still alive. But she would get over it, move on.

She thought back to the day she left the Playground. Like every other time she and Coulson separated, there was a part of her begging her not to do it, to turn back and stay. Skye felt everything around her quiet down, even the constant hum of vibrations. Did she hate leaving Coulson because something terrible always happened?

Or because leaving him, being without him, was terrible on its own? The uncertainty (because nothing was certain in their crazy lives,) that this wouldn’t be their last goodbye, their last hug, the last time she could see his face light up because of her. That hurt more than anything.

“Huh.” Skye said, drawing Lincoln’s attention.

“What’s wrong?”

She thought about kissing Lincoln.

Like, not right now, but in general. He was a good looking guy. Replace the sweaters with flannel and he’d be half the boys in Austin, all scruffy face and tousled hair and sardonic smiles. There might be a spark, but then again, that was kind of his thing. She thought about the time she fell on top of him, escaping Hydra in Wisconsin. It was _the_ romantic cliche, wasn’t it? She probably should have felt breathless, filled with butterflies, or a desire for him to reach up and push her hair back.

She got those butterflies, but only when she opened the door to the roof and saw the Quinjet. ‘ _They’re here_ ,’ she thought, not sure if the jet meant Coulson, or if it meant more agents like the ones at the cabin.

She felt like the wind was knocked out of her that day, but not when her chest crashed against Lincoln’s.

When she turned around that corner and saw Coulson. Alive and there to find her and help kick Hydra’s ass. His face when he saw her must have reflected her own, she thought. Relief, shock, unbelievable happiness. And if Coulson loved her then…

She thought about their kiss. If Gordon hadn’t appeared, would he have kissed her back then?

Because she was beginning to think her response would have been much clearer in that moment than it was just hanging out in his office.

“Skye?”

“Hm?” She looked up at Lincoln, who stared at her, confused.

“Everything okay?”

It was. Or, it was going to be.

“Yeah, so before you abandon me to hike the Andes or whatever,” Lincoln grinned, seeming happy she was in the mood to joke.  “Do you think you could hold down the fort for a couple days?”

***

Thank god for Billy. Skye had arrived at the Playground to find it demolished, no one in sight. The quinjets and larger planes were gone, which either meant people escaped, or Hydra--it had to be Hydra, didn’t it?--acquired some new toys. Through some miraculous mix of adrenaline and desperation she made it to the next town over, where they had made a few rare supply trips. They really only tried to go for emergencies, to avoid too much visibility in the area, but all the agents knew it.

 _If they escaped, they haven’t reached out yet_ , Skye thought, basically jogging through the streets. _Coulson is the only one who knows where I am._

_Which means Coulson is--_

_Don’t._

Just as she was about to lose it, leaving a small coffee shop she and Simmons had gone to once (it was an _emergency_. Their coffee maker was broken,) she felt someone pull her arm into a small alley. Whipping around, ready to take on half of Hydra out if she had to, she nearly snapped Koenig’s head off.

“ _Whoa_ , whoa, whoa, whoa, Agent Johnson.” He held his hands up defensively, as Skye reeled back.

“Sam? Where is everyone, are they okay--”

“ _Billy_ ,” he corrected, and Skye’s eyes widened.

_Is now the time? Really?_

“Sam is at another base, with Director Coulson and the rest of the team,” Billy continued, and Skye felt her eyes begin to fill up. She’d thought they were _dead_. All of them. She’d pushed it down as long as she could, but she could feel the shaking begin in her chest.

“ _Billy_ ,” she said, sniffling, and barely gave him a second before latching onto him as she cried.

“This--uh,” Billy stammered. “ _Inappropriate_ ,” he mumbled quietly, but eventually relented, patting Skye stiffly on the back.

 

 _And here we are,_ Skye thought, standing on the roof of their new base. The sun was setting, casting an intense orange glow on everything, like the world was on fire. She shivered, imagining the Playground burning as it was firebombed. It was a home, somewhere she could feel safe. Everyone was taking part in the inventory, seeing what had been salvaged, what would need to be replaced. Most of her personal belongings came with her as she traveled between the Playground and the Nest, so she hadn’t lost much. That was one benefit of everything you own fitting into one duffel.

Coulson would be cleared to leave medical in a couple days, which was good for him. He was getting restless, wanting to help out, wanting to get off of his ass and _do something._

That _something_ didn’t seem to involve addressing their whole deal, so Skye had simply tried to be present while he was bedridden, going over the updates she’d made to the base’s network and, when they were alone, Lincoln’s updates on the Nest construction.

If she wasn’t so certain she loved Coulson, she’d want to kill him. Doubting her feelings? His intentions were good, of course they were, but that didn’t make them any less irritating. If he didn’t believe her now, when would he? They would always be escaping disaster, always putting themselves in dangerous scenarios. Hell, that’s probably why it took him so long to spit it out; he had to double, triple, quadruple check that it was genuine and not formed out of panic or adrenaline.

 _Idiot_.

What was that line from When Harry Met Sally?

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

(Yes, she knew it by heart. It was one of the greats, sue her.)

But Coulson wasn’t letting her get her Billy Crystal on in this scenario, avoiding the subject and basically keeping all personal talks to a minimum. _I came back to tell you,_ she wanted to scream at him. She didn’t even know about the attack, just that she’d had a revelation, and she needed to share it with him ASAP.

Like puzzle pieces falling into place, Skye realized that she wanted Coulson, just as much as he wanted her. Maybe that was a cocky thing to say, but she always knew that she loved him. The devotion and feelings were always there, she just hadn’t placed that label on them. _This_ label just happened to involve kissing, which, after discovering she did not want to kiss boys like Lincoln anymore, she wanted to explore.

She’d gotten a couple out of him before he pushed her away, and she had been thrilled and relieved to find that they were just like she’d hoped. Her biggest fear, and probably Coulson’s, was getting to that point and realizing, ‘ _no wait, this is weird_.’ After all, those aspects were really the only thing that would change. She still got to love and care about Coulson, work with him and protect him. Just now she’d be able to kiss him after, and do other things with him that, yup, she was most definitely sure she’d like to do. And not just because it had been a long time.

“Everything okay?”

Skye turned around.

“Stellar,” she told May, who cocked an eyebrow. May. She wondered just how much May knew they were keeping from her, if it bothered her. The answers were probably “a lot,” and “yes.”

She ought to be nicer to May.

“I may have screwed things up," Skye told her, and the other woman walked over to her.

“With SHIELD?” They both turned to watch the sun, now a deep red glow disappearing into the horizon. The rest of the sky was slowly being taken over by an inky blue.

“With Coulson,” Skye responded, and May snorted.

“Somehow I doubt that,” she said scathingly, and Skye frowned.

“What does that--”

“Skye,” May said seriously, turning to face her. “I don’t care what you do in your free time. I care even less what Coulson does.” Skye blinked, not exactly sure what she had been expecting. “But listen to me when I say this: I don’t think that’s something you have to worry about.”

“Right,” Skye nodded, and the two of them returned their gaze to the last bit of the sun that was ducking below the trees. “So just so we’re clear, we’re talking about Coulson being in love with me, right?”

May closed her eyes and pursed her lips slightly. Probably appealing to some deity for patience. She then turned, without a word, and walked away.

“I mean, I love him too, it’s not just-- I’m working on it!”

As May closed the door behind her, the sun finally set. Another day down.

***

“This one will need stitches,” Coulson told her apologetically, and Skye sighed.

“It’s fine,” she said, gripping the edges of the metal table she was sitting on. It had been a tough fight, one they weren’t expecting on a routine “Welcome Wagon.” It turned out that this particular individual had zero interest in joining their team, and decided to express that via controlling winds strong enough to give you whiplash.

_Or throw you thirty feet through a glass window._

She was lucky she didn’t lose an eye ( _‘Then I’d have to be director,’_ she’d joked to Coulson, who merely continued to grow pale and press the sleeve of his jacket to her bleeding face,) but gained another deep gash right on her cheekbone.

Even Mike, who was up front piloting the “minibus,” had been too concerned to joke around. Which was a shame, because, well, obviously.

“You know you’re going to have to distract me,” Skye told Coulson, grimacing at the sight of the needle he’d brought over.

“I’ll do my best,” Coulson told her, briefly cleaning up the area once more before beginning. Skye breathed in through her nose. “You always seem to get hurt in the same place, you notice that?” He asked, and Skye scoffed.

“Yeah, look who’s talking,” she shot back, looking pointedly above his eyebrow. Coulson’s face gave nothing away, but she felt the first sting of the needle in her skin. “I think this one might scar though,” she sighed. “Kind of a bummer, I was pretty attached to the way my face looked before.”

Coulson pulled back a bit to examine her. “Oh yeah, it’s basically a lost cause now,” he murmured, returning to his task. “Might as well walk around wearing paper bag.”

Skye smiled, trying not to laugh too much, disturb the process. Unwillingly, she thought of her mother. Her scars. Either her face did something or he saw her grip the table even tighter, because Coulson sighed.

“You know you could have dozens of these and still be the most beautiful woman on the planet,” he said casually, as if he was telling her what her credit score was.

“Just the planet?” Skye asked, cheeky. “I mean, we’re SHIELD, sir, we know more than anyone that it’s a big universe out there. Lots of otherworldly beings to compete with.” Coulson’s eyes stayed trained on her wound, but she saw a smile begin to form.

“Eh,” he said, snipping a stitch. How many had it been so far? She somehow lost count. Talking was good. He sat back a bit and looked at her, before grabbing a new length of thread. “You’d probably still have a lock,” he told her, leaning in again. Skye bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stave off a blush.

_Charm school._

“Unless they were green.”

It was so quiet, under his breath, she wouldn’t have heard it if they weren’t so close. He hadn’t begun the new stitch yet, so Skye leaned away, eyebrows fully raised.

“Hold on, I think I may have some gravel in my ear,” she said, incredulous. “Did you say _green_? As in like, green women?”

Coulson shrugged. “It’s my favorite color,” he said, that charming as hell smirk beginning to appear.

“I thought your favorite color was blue,” Skye observed, curious about this new development. She wouldn’t forget the green women thing though. _Ass_.

“To wear,” he said simply, returning to the task at hand. His face was one of total concentration, and Skye found herself just watching him as he fixed her up. His brows slightly furrowed, his breathing even. His hands efficient but gentle as he completed another stitch.

“You really love me,” she said quietly. “Still.”

Coulson frowned. “ _Still_? Skye, it’s been--”

“A long time. For you,” she said, and the resigned look on his face told her she wasn’t wrong. “How long?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Coulson said quietly, leaning in for another stitch. “Last one,” he told her, so she let him do his work, ignoring the tiny, possibly imagined tug on her skin.

 _Last one_ , she repeated to herself.

At last it was done, and Coulson began to stand up from his stool. Skye placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Please?” She asked, and he looked at her seriously, then nodded. He stayed put. “Was it after I got my powers?” Coulson shook his head. “Earlier?” Nothing. Which she took as a yes. “Was it when I got shot?” Coulson got a horrified look on his face. “Okay, no, I guess not. Earlier?”

Coulson looked away.

“Wow, okay,” Skye muttered. She knew she was slow on the uptake, but not by _that_ much. “When I saved you from Raina?”

“Skye,” Coulson sighed, putting a hand up. “I don’t know exactly when-- It’s not important.”

“Oh, it’s not important? The moment you realize that you’re in love with someone.” Skye argued, and Coulson looked at her with a mix of frustration and sadness. He knew exactly when, he just wasn’t telling her.

“August fifth,” Skye told him, and Coulson looked puzzled. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you forever, but I didn’t realize it until August fifth. The day _before_ I came home to find the Playground in ruins.” She shrugged. “Sorry, it probably took me longer than it should have.”

Coulson’s eyes were a little wide, but she could still see the concern in them. “Skye, what are you--”

“I was talking to Lincoln, at the Nest, and thinking about what would happen if I kissed him--”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Coulson asked, but he didn’t sound petty or jealous. He sounded nervous, actually.

“Okay, maybe not the best place to start. But I didn’t want to-- Okay, give me a minute,” Skye said, flustered. Now that she had When Harry Met Sally on the brain, she was really stressing the romantic speech part.

“Lincoln told me that after the Nest gets settled, after we find another doctor, he’s going to leave. Who knows where, some soul-searching journey. And I was sad, but it wasn’t…” Coulson leaned forward slightly in his seat, so small a motion that he probably didn’t realize he was doing it. _He’d better believe me now._

“I just suddenly realized that saying goodbye to Lincoln, possibly _forever_ wasn’t nearly as painful as saying goodbye to you for a couple of days.” She looked down at her bandaged hands, releasing her grip on the table’s edge. “Not just because Hydra, or SHIELD Lite, or Inhumans decide to attack whenever we’re apart, although, I mean. Come on. I wasn’t wrong, was I?” Coulson smiled, moving his hand up to rest on her knee. “But I just...miss you. A lot. And if I’m going to take on evil forces, I want to do it next to you.”

“Me too,” Coulson said quietly, squeezing her knee and giving her goosebumps.

“Okay,” Skye said, placing her hands on his shoulders and giving them a little shake. “So, I’m in love with you, you’re in love with me, do we want to try this again?”

“You’re injured,” Coulson reminded her, but his pleased smile and hand moving up to rest on one of hers totally gave him away.

“I hate to break it to you, Phil,” Skye sighed, noting the way his eyes seemed to light up when she used his name. “But I don’t have much faith in there being a time soon when one of us isn’t injured.” It was a slightly morbid thing to say, because of course they didn’t like thinking of each other getting hurt. But that was kind of just the way things worked.

“We would probably have to wait a long time,” Coulson agreed, his hand sliding up to hold her elbow.

“And I think you’ve waited long enough, don’t--” Not even bothering to finish that thought, because she really was _done_ waiting, Skye leaned down and captured his lips in hers. Coulson responded in kind, standing up and moving between her legs so he could wrap his arms around her waist. Skye sighed, running her hands up his back. _How long have I been missing out?_

Seriously, how long ago could she have been doing this?

“Was it when I hacked into SHIELD at the Hub?” She asked kissing the side of his mouth. Coulson reached his hand up to tangle in her hair --Skye didn’t know why but she _really_ liked that move--slipping his tongue in her mouth for a bit--which, also _whoa_ ,-- before pulling back.

“It was when you jumped into Ian Quinn’s pool with a loaded gun,” he whispered, causing Skye to stand up from the table, smacking him in the chest.

“Was not,” she argued.

Coulson kissed her deeply. “You’re right,” he sighed. “It was when you kept saying ‘bang’ whenever you pulled the trigger.” Skye groaned, pushing down on his shoulders until he was seated again. His eyes were super wide now, and definitely not in the ‘ _I don’t like this_ ’ way.

 _“Uh, guys, we’re going to be landing in about ten minutes, so…”_ Mike’s voice trailed off over the intercom.

Skye looked down at Coulson. “There are security feeds in the cockpit, aren’t there?”

“Yeah, there are,” he responded, straightening his tie. He looked up at her, playful, but also hopeful. “To be continued?”

“Oh, _hell yeah,_ ” Skye said enthusiastically. Coulson grinned, and Skye bit her lip to keep that goofy smile off her face.

They had a lot of lost time to make up for.


End file.
